What archaeologists look like

This is fieldwork at Port Tobacco, Maryland, with three of my most dedicated volunteers. It feels wrong to call them volunteers when these ladies are quite knowledgeable and capable archaeologists in their own right. Carol, in the red, recently published a peer reviewed article on Port Tobacco. 

Most of my archaeological research takes place "in the lab" as I am more interested in data than in finding pretty things. Here I am working at the State Museum of Pennsylvania while on a Scholar in Residence Fellowship.

There are not many photos of me excavating because I am usually the site photographer. When I was in this rather deep unit someone stole my camera.

Opportunities at the SAA

For those attending the SAA 77th Annual Meeting in Memphis, there are a few events on the schedule that you should think about attending:

The Committee on the Status of Women in Archaeology (COSWA) will be meeting on Thursday, April 19th at 4:00 - 6:00pm in Heritage Room I-II.

The Women's Networking Reception will be held at 5:30 - 7:00 pm on Thursday, April 19th in Heritage Room IV.

The business meeting of the Women in Archaeology Interest Group is also Thursday night from 7:00 - 7:30pm in Heritage Room IV.

A symposium, REFLECTING ON THE ROLE OF WOMEN IN ARCHAEOLOGY, sponsored by COSWA will be held on Thursday morning from 9:15 to Noon in room L-3.
Participants:
9:15 Linda Stine—A cultural negotiation: gender, class, preservation law and opportunity
9:30 Janet Brashler—Working at Archaeology in Government, Academia and CRM: A Cross Cultural Perspective on Gender in the Archaeology Work Place
9:45 Jackie Lillis—One Discipline, Two Degrees, and Two Careers: Lessons Learned Over 15 Years by a Female Indiana Jones
10:00 Dorothy Lippert—The Work of Beloved Women: How female archaeologists restore the world through repatriation
10:15 Marcia Bezerra, Caroline Fernandes Caromano and Leandro Matthews Cascon—‘Modern-day Amazons’: The historical construction of Amazonian archaeology by woman’s hands, eyes and minds
10:30 Maria Bruno, Nicole Couture and Deborah Blom—Challenges and Accomplishments of Multi-disciplinary, Female, Co-Directorship at Mollo Kontu, Tiwanaku, Bolivia
10:45 Cherrie De Leiuen—Where is gender in archaeology?
11:00 Katie Kirakosian—Discussant
11:15 Astrid D'Eredita—Donna e archeologa: an Italian perspective
11:30 Silvia Tomaskova—Discussant
11:45 Ruthann Knudson—Discussant

If there is anything else that I've missed, (and I am sure that there are) please add them in the comments section.

See you in Memphis!

What would a feminine archaeology look like?

As a new female archaeologist working within the academy, I am concerned with the possible barriers I may face in my career or the roles I might be placed in because of my gender (in my current department, much of the administrative burden falls on my female colleagues). For many years, it never occurred to me that I might face discrimination, often invisibly embedded in structures of policy and power, that would influence my ability to be a successful, productive researcher and teacher. However, as I have moved through my career, I have recognized, with increasing concern, the elements of myself I am forced to mute or transform in order to 'fit in' to expected roles as an archaeologist and academic (an identity still all too often associated with men). I admit to being concerned about when I decide to start a family, which will add an inevitable layer to the various ways the academy and other institutions fail to support women's choices.

At the same time, I acknowledge that the challenges faced by women academic archaeologists have, in many ways, transformed archaeology over the past 20 years. The doors are more open than they have ever been, thanks to the pioneering work of so many. Many of the fundamental issues that face women in archaeology and in the academy, however, remain the same but are more insidious, cloaked in a veneer of political correctness or the "just joking" mentality.

One of the areas of greatest concern for me is governance and how the institutional structures enforce masculine values at the expense of alternate voices, whether feminine, queer, or indigenous, to name a few. Whether we are academics working within university structures, consulting archaeologists working within state and federal structures, or somewhere in between, many of the hierarchical structures of government are firmly embedded in patriarchal values and modes of decision making. Issues around governmental structure in the US around women has recently been brought to the fore with ongoing debates about the rights of women to their own bodies and health care. There has been discussion in recent forums about the need for women to be in leadership roles in archaeology, but if those leadership roles remain in a masculine frame of reference, the issues of governance will change much more slowly than if we can define and implement a feminine model of archaeology to work alongside and transform structures already in place

With this in mind, I ask the question: what would a feminine archaeology look like? How would it be different from the practice of archaeology today in the classroom? In the field? In publications? In CRM? I invite you to engage in this conversation in the comments and at the upcoming SAA meetings.

Everybody has a story...

One of the founders of the blog asked me to share my story about how I became an archaeologist. I am happy to share my own journey, since I took a much more direct path than many in the current climate of archaeology. However, I only agreed to do this as part of a broader call for us all to share our stories, whether we personally deem them “successful” or not. Our personal narratives of the trials, tribulations, and successes we have faced as archaeologists are powerful. Sharing the diverse pathways by which we have become archaeologists helps to empower others, especially women working through graduate degrees and wondering "am I doing this right?" or "do I have a future?" We could all benefit from the storytelling of our fellow archaeologists at all stages of career and life. I, for one, am curious about the challenges faced by the pioneers of gender equality in archaeology, as well as the challenges faced today by women in archaeology. With this in mind, I present my own story.

Currently, I am an assistant professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Alberta. I graduated with my PhD in May 2011, almost a full year after I had taken up my tenure-track position (July 2010). I started my job at 29 years old, which led to some of the challenges I wrote about previously (see this post). Now, while this seems ideal (a job before you even graduate!), I would not recommend taking up a position before finishing your dissertation if you want to keep any sense of sanity. Nevertheless, the academic world being what it is today, I was not about to turn down or defer a job offer. 

Prior to starting my job, I had been in post-secondary education for 12 years straight - 5 years undergrad, 1 MA, 6 PhD - and right out of high-school. There were a few reasons why I didn't take a break throughout my schooling. First, I didn't want to do/couldn't imagine myself doing anything else. I could have taken a year off, but for me, that would have been a waste of time, since it wouldn't be working toward my ultimate goal. I regret almost nothing in my past (not because everything was perfect, but because I prefer to look forward and recognize that every difficult moment is a learning opportunity, even if it is challenging at the time), but I do regret not taking some time off between my MA and PhD. 

One question I am often asked is whether or not I had mentoring throughout my degrees and the role those mentors played in my journey. We all have mentors, and I have been lucky enough to have several people in the academy who were always very supportive of my career choices. If I needed help, I could always turn to them, and most eventually became members of my PhD supervisory committee. The majority of my mentors, however, were men. Throughout my undergrad, there was only one woman archaeologist who I encountered, and she was in a different department. I do remember taking a course with her and thinking "I want to be her when I grow up," attesting to the importance of having role models of the same gender.

My schooling did have some ups and downs. One ongoing challenge was finances. I received no monetary support from my family, so I funded my undergraduate degree by taking on student loans and working a part time job. I had first entered university with the goal of specializing in Near Eastern archaeology and much of my undergraduate degree was spent preparing for that career trajectory. Then, when I graduated, I didn't get into the one program to which I had applied. I was devastated, but it was one of the best things that ever happened to me, in retrospect. I had already graduated with a BA but took a few classes that year and reevaluated my direction within archaeology. It also taught me that failure didn't mean the world was going to end – a very important lesson at any age. In the following fall, I began my MA in Northwest Coast archaeology at the University of Toronto, and I never looked back. I also made a pledge at this time - I was not going to continue in school if I had to go in further debt. I managed to get enough funding to survive until year 5 of my PhD, at which time I had to take on a job. 

My only true moment of doubt about my future in archaeology occurred just after that graduate school rejection letter, where for two hours I seriously considered becoming a second-grade teacher. I don't mean to imply I didn't get discouraged at any other point in my career, but this was the only point where I spent any time and energy focusing on another path in my life. People have often asked me to explain how I was so sure this was the path for me. Honestly, I don't know. I had an unusual and difficult childhood and was home-schooled for six years, during which time I developed a fierce love of learning. My life was quite unstable during those years, but I found solace in written work and in the imaginative abilities of my mind. Going back to public school was a social shock but an easy academic transition. Learning was first a refuge, then a passion, and I have always loved being in an educational environment. September remains my favourite month because it represents the start of a new school year.

I also credit my mother with instilling a strong sense of independence in both myself and my sister. Neither of my parents graduated from university, although both had attended in the early 1970s. Nevertheless, they were both active learners and my mother in particular encouraged us to think outside the box, even in high school. As a teenager, I was convinced I could do anything I wished, as long as I was willing to put in the hard work. Once I set my mind to becoming an archaeologist, I was not going to be gainsaid. In high school, I read a small piece by Brian Fagan, entitled "Archaeology and You", and in it, he stated that a graduate degree was required to become an archaeologist. At that moment, I said to myself and anyone else who would listen, "I'm going to get my PhD in archaeology." Later, when in graduate school, I decided I was going to get a tenure-track position by the time I was 30. I don't know why I decided 30 - I guess it sounded good at the time - but four months shy of my 30 birthday, I began my position at the University of Alberta.

Many people who have seen my journey as it unfolded have suggested I am lucky. I feel blessed every day to be in the position I am in, but calling it luck is a bit of a cop-out. I believe we make our own luck. If I could sum up what I see as the key to my success, I would say it is the power of positive thinking and confidence in my ability to make my dreams a reality (cue inspirational  music). I knew exactly what I wanted, I believed I would achieve it, and I never let doubt from within or without undermine that belief. My biggest challenge today is articulating what I want in my life in the future, but I have no doubt that I will be able to create that life, no matter what. 

And that's my story. I invite you to share your story in the comments below. We all have different paths and challenges, but every story has great value.

This is What an Archaeologist Looks Like

Thanks to the wonders of social media, I recently encountered two things in the web-sphere that caught my attention and gave me an idea for this blog. First, was this story about the importance of role models in encouraging girls to pursue careers in the so-called STEM disciplines. Second, was this tumbler called This is What a Scientist Looks Like.

Both of these websites epitomize the one of the core issues discussed at the roundtable that initiated this blog: How can we encourage more young women into the discipline when female role models in archaeology are completely absent in popular media and even scarce in scholarly publications and textbooks?

If we ever hope to change the perception of who and what an Archaeologist is or isn't (to paraphrase the Scientist Tumbler), then we must share images that combat stereotypes and demonstrate the diversity of this discipline. Let's begin here by sharing photos of yourself or your colleagues and students.

Most of my field photos are on slide film, but here are a few photographs that I had as digital images. Sadly, I have virtually no photos of myself in the field (because I am usually the one taking pictures).

Here is one of me operating a backhoe for deep-testing during a CRM project in a floodplain of the Wabash valley, Indiana, 2000.

In this photograph, I am hosting an informational table for Indiana Archaeology Month at Pokagon State Park, 2004.

This photograph of me demonstrating an atlatl was snapped by a reporter from a small town newspaper when I revisited a site I worked on when I was an undergraduate to lecture about Paleoindians and Pleistocene Indiana to a large group of school children in 2010.

Here are some photographs of my amazing female colleagues and students.

Leslie, Tammy, and Emily (from left to right), cleaning off a feature at a Late Archaic site, Clark County, Indiana, 1999.

Kim, taking field notes at a CRM project, Clark County, Indiana, 2000

Krysta and Kaitlin excavating an accidental discovery of a skeleton in the hardpan of Pinny Beach, Nevis, West Indies, 2003

Mariah, excavating a Late Prehistoric stockade wall in central Indiana, 2004

Laura and Jessica, excavating a shovel test for Field Methods, Mount Pleasant, Michigan, 2011

~Sarah Surface-Evans

'Are you a new grad student?' Coping with perception during career transitions.

The author adorned in robes for graduation.

Last year, I engaged in a ritual transition from graduate student to Doctor of Philosophy. Garbed in ceremonial magenta and blue robes, somewhat reminiscent of clothing at Hogwarts, and wearing a truly absurd puffy hat with a gold tassel, I stood on stage and was hooded by the chancellor of my university. As an anthropologist, I could not help but stand outside myself, looking at a bizarre cultural moment of organized ritual. The moment, however, was highly significant in my personal journey from student to professor and signified a new phase of my life.

This post is about moments of transition we experience throughout our personal and professional lives and how transitions can bring out the assumptions and perceptions people make about us. Transitions can manifest in many ways - becoming a grad student, a parent, an administrator, a project director, a manager of a resource management company, a university professor, a spouse. Each of these moments can be associated with a set of social expectations and responses. Sometimes responses to transitions are overwhelmingly positive. Other times, however, transitions spark negative or discriminatory responses.

In my experience, negative perceptions come in two main guises. First is the condescending praise I have received from either junior or senior (usually male) colleagues. A good example of this form of response is when I completed my comprehensive examinations during my PhD program, transitioning from student to candidate. I had received a lot of positive feedback for my performance in my exam, and word was spreading around the department. A male professor near the end of his career, who worked in my region but who had ignored me up until this moment, due in large part to my gender, stopped me in the hallway to congratulate me on my comps performance. He followed this up by telling me how there were many good jobs "teaching at community colleges." Now, I believe teaching at a community college is a valuable job and respect those who are in important teaching positions. However, I was now a PhD candidate at a large, well-respected research institution who had aspirations for an academic job at a comparable institution (which I now have), and a senior scholar was implying that I shouldn't set my sights too high because I was a woman. Predictably, I did not respond well to this "damning with faint praise" response to my years of hard work.

The second form of negative response is more insidious and, for me, less easy to dismiss. It has to do with what people expect when they hear the words "archaeology professor." Pause with me for a moment, readers. What are the images that immediately come to mind when you picture an archaeology professor? I would guess the majority of you pictured a middle-aged, bearded, white male. Others may have had different images, but I doubt many (any?) of you pictured a woman in her early 30s (who perhaps looks to be in her late 20s). I do not fit the mold of what people expect. For the first six months of my job as an assistant professor, I did not go two weeks without someone either asking me if I was a graduate student or making a comment on how young I was. Now, many of you might be thinking I don't have anything to complain about and should be flattered that people think I look young. Indeed, this is the message I get from most women who I speak to about this, and even some men. I argue this perception, that I should be happy people think I am young and enjoy my perceived youth while I can, is part of the problem. When a supposed colleague suggests I am a graduate student, she unintentionally puts me in a certain subordinate category based on my appearance. Our tendency to judge people on their appearance stretches far beyond the walls of the ivory tower, as recent viral photos (such as this one) have demonstrated. In a society where youth is held on a pedestal and many women spend thousands of dollars on plastic surgery and products to ensure that no wrinkles are visible, I am looking forward to the day where I look the part of a university professor. Or, to think about this a different way, I look forward to the day where the image of a university professor includes all shapes, sizes, ages, cultures, and genders.

How about you? What negative perceptions or assumptions have you faced at moments of life/career transition? How can we work to create an inclusive and supportive environment in archaeology?

Remembering Elizabeth Brumfiel

Sad news in the world of archaeology with the untimely passing of Elizabeth Brumfiel. Elizabeth tackled issues of economic inequality, class, and gender in the Aztec Empire. She sought to engender the past and deal with issues of broad social significance. Her work on social inequality and imperial domination was controversial enough for David Horowitz lists her as one of America’s 100 Most Dangerous Professors.

While I did not know her personally, Elizabeth Brumfiel has greatly inspired my research. Her research has made significant contributions in archaeology, particularly gender studies. By all accounts, Liz was a great mentor and loved to teach. She will be missed, but will certainly not be forgotten.

In Memoriam: Elizabeth Brumfiel
Liz Brumfiel Will Always Be Remembered